WHILE TRYING TO READ AMERICAN GODS. beresford mitchell may 29 2014 coconut grove miami florida i can tell you, at some point time let go, her face fell, her back puffed at the top, her shoulders went round, and she fell forward while standing. i can tell you, the legs of her well worn pants needed new hemlines, oh, certainly about an inch shorter would help, her arms, pure white and hairless, at some time became spotted- a series of different sized brown marks, like a half covered leopard, her face was flushed, her neck was gone, her shoulders essentially became her head, and judging by things unveiling themselves to us, her strength had evaporated. she never looked around, never looked up, she only looked down, and with some possessed determination. i always knew what she was doing and where she was doing it. first she was to my right, alarming me, dragging chairs across the floor, like fingernails across a chalkboard, only louder, more aggravating. a loud sharp grating sound, piercing my ears, disturbing my silence and echoing throughout the place, and around the inside of my head, a head that was full of the writings of neil gaiman and wanting more..... wzzzzzzt. then she was to my front, pulling large green garbage bags, more than half her size, from behind her, one with each hand, both unceremoniously over the concrete tiles, they rolled from side to side, making no special effort to avoid people, tables or chairs. just more noise and i can tell you more disruption. then she was behind me, slamming service area doors, uncluttering plastic trays full of left over burgers, smashing them on the counter top, shaking them free of half consumed shakes and empty coffee cups, scattered fries and mcnuggets cartons before crudely sweeping them into the hole that took them from view. it was obvious, clearly, time had left and taken a few things..... gone was her ability to be subtle and her awareness, for she was removed from the focal point she had become, her disturbances annoyed not only me, but the elderly, elegant man with the golden, wavy hair, speckled with gray, who sat across from me, with a permanate bronze tan, that served as great background for his gold watch, and his gold and diamond studded rings that populated three of his thickening fingers. he looked at me with distain and shook his head, his turquoise blue eyes held steady as he told me, “same thing every day.” then from behind me, to reinforce the point, crash! boom! bang! the doors flew open, and she fell in from outside, recklessly rolling the mobile green plastic garbage container, and she was doing it with an anarchy that befuddled, for it spoke of democracy; it would hit whatever was in its way. none of this stopped her. she blushed again with exertion. eyes fixed on the advancing floor, her short arms holding fast to the handles, moving in isolation, her dishevelled black uniform in constant movement, not a blur but a motion, she was..... here.... then there..... then over there...... then back over here........ she was, seemingly everywhere. i can tell you, i wanted to tell her, to alert her, even to see if she knew, that the whole restaurant was pissed. but i couldn’t. i did not want to make her lose her smile, small and infrequent as it was, or her sense of acomplishment, or her sense of industry. for i reasoned, she was glad to be here, glad to be alive, to have a place to go, to be doing something, to have purpose, to still be..... relevant. and, i was good with that.
Posted on: Sat, 31 May 2014 02:29:29 +0000